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Authors: Dewayne M Kunkel
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long plumes of steam into the sky.
Suni found a narrow trail through the brush that led eastward. Taking advantage of it they covered many miles far quicker than they could have fighting through the undergrowth. Then the trail ahead ended abruptly in a large clearing.
A steaming pond of black water covered with a film of yellow scum lay before them. A strip of barren ground ran to either side of the water forming a narrow shore.
Suni stopped at the clearings edge; he stood staring out across the water a look of distrust on his face.
He took a step forward, then another. Suddenly the water erupted. Black water flew high into the air as a slime-covered coil of flesh lashed out at his legs.
Had it been any other man he would have been ensnared and drug to a watery grave, but this was Ravin Suni, Anghor Shok. He leapt above the writhing coil and in a graceful back flip he landed several feet beyond its reach. Casually brushing the sand from his legs he rejoined his startled companions. “We should find a way around this quagmire.” He said calmly.
Yoladt looked at Suni in amazement. “No man can move that fast.” He said in disbelief.
“At times I do not believe Suni is a man.” Connell answered with a smile.
They circled about the wetland, keeping to the trees, often wading through shallow creeks of nearly scalding water.
The trees thinned once more as they came to the end of the living wood. Less than two miles away stood the western flanks of the rumbling volcano. The ground between them and the fire-belching peak was filled with dead trees, many of them yet standing. Little more than barren boles rising above the fallen remains of their brethren.
They moved forward cautiously the ground knee deep in ash and cinders. Moving to the edge of the dead wood they stood staring upward at the towering column of ash and smoke as it rose above them.
The lower reaches shedding glowing embers and large chunks of molten stone. That fell back onto the fire scarred flanks of the volcano. In brilliant explosions of orange light the stones struck and rolled down the peak to crash onto the ground.
The heat was oppressive reaching out and flushing their faces. Connell shook his head and waved them back to the wood, away from the heat.
“We cannot hope to survive such a climb.” Connell said mopping the sweat from his brow. “It is suicide to even try.”
“Our path lies not that way.” Marcos said looking to the mountain. “There is but one safe route into Trothgar, through Thraldur, the gate of skulls.”
“It will be heavily guarded.” Connell replied.
“Aye it will.” Marcos said in agreement. “But it is the only way. Try and enter by another route and the flesh will burn from your bones.
“Within that mountain there is a lake of liquid fire, an inferno of terrible heat and violence.” Marcos took a seat on a fallen log. “Sur’kar believes himself safe within his keep, but there will be patrols about. The closer we draw to the gate the more likely we will run into them.”
“Where lies this gate?” Yoladt asked.
“On the south eastern face of the mountain.” Marcos answered pointing in the general direction. “The wall of the mountain is lower over the gate. A tunnel pierces the side leading to a bridge over the lake of fire. There upon an islet of glassy stone stands the citadel of our enemy, the tower V’rag.”
“Long ago I saw this mountain burning in her glory. I watched as it was struck down, so mighty was that blow that it nearly destroyed this fair earth.” Marcos paused, dispelling the memories that came to mind. “How I have hoped never to look upon this dark place again.”
“Standing here gets us no closer to our goal.” Connell said breaking Marcos’s train of thought. “If we must circle this mountain then, we have days of walking yet ahead of us.”
They moved deeper into the wood and began moving northward once more. It was fortunate that they did so. For as the reached
Suni found a narrow trail through the brush that led eastward. Taking advantage of it they covered many miles far quicker than they could have fighting through the undergrowth. Then the trail ahead ended abruptly in a large clearing.
A steaming pond of black water covered with a film of yellow scum lay before them. A strip of barren ground ran to either side of the water forming a narrow shore.
Suni stopped at the clearings edge; he stood staring out across the water a look of distrust on his face.
He took a step forward, then another. Suddenly the water erupted. Black water flew high into the air as a slime-covered coil of flesh lashed out at his legs.
Had it been any other man he would have been ensnared and drug to a watery grave, but this was Ravin Suni, Anghor Shok. He leapt above the writhing coil and in a graceful back flip he landed several feet beyond its reach. Casually brushing the sand from his legs he rejoined his startled companions. “We should find a way around this quagmire.” He said calmly.
Yoladt looked at Suni in amazement. “No man can move that fast.” He said in disbelief.
“At times I do not believe Suni is a man.” Connell answered with a smile.
They circled about the wetland, keeping to the trees, often wading through shallow creeks of nearly scalding water.
The trees thinned once more as they came to the end of the living wood. Less than two miles away stood the western flanks of the rumbling volcano. The ground between them and the fire-belching peak was filled with dead trees, many of them yet standing. Little more than barren boles rising above the fallen remains of their brethren.
They moved forward cautiously the ground knee deep in ash and cinders. Moving to the edge of the dead wood they stood staring upward at the towering column of ash and smoke as it rose above them.
The lower reaches shedding glowing embers and large chunks of molten stone. That fell back onto the fire scarred flanks of the volcano. In brilliant explosions of orange light the stones struck and rolled down the peak to crash onto the ground.
The heat was oppressive reaching out and flushing their faces. Connell shook his head and waved them back to the wood, away from the heat.
“We cannot hope to survive such a climb.” Connell said mopping the sweat from his brow. “It is suicide to even try.”
“Our path lies not that way.” Marcos said looking to the mountain. “There is but one safe route into Trothgar, through Thraldur, the gate of skulls.”
“It will be heavily guarded.” Connell replied.
“Aye it will.” Marcos said in agreement. “But it is the only way. Try and enter by another route and the flesh will burn from your bones.
“Within that mountain there is a lake of liquid fire, an inferno of terrible heat and violence.” Marcos took a seat on a fallen log. “Sur’kar believes himself safe within his keep, but there will be patrols about. The closer we draw to the gate the more likely we will run into them.”
“Where lies this gate?” Yoladt asked.
“On the south eastern face of the mountain.” Marcos answered pointing in the general direction. “The wall of the mountain is lower over the gate. A tunnel pierces the side leading to a bridge over the lake of fire. There upon an islet of glassy stone stands the citadel of our enemy, the tower V’rag.”
“Long ago I saw this mountain burning in her glory. I watched as it was struck down, so mighty was that blow that it nearly destroyed this fair earth.” Marcos paused, dispelling the memories that came to mind. “How I have hoped never to look upon this dark place again.”
“Standing here gets us no closer to our goal.” Connell said breaking Marcos’s train of thought. “If we must circle this mountain then, we have days of walking yet ahead of us.”
They moved deeper into the wood and began moving northward once more. It was fortunate that they did so. For as the reached
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